


Acronyms and Sunday Hymns

by AllDressedUpAndNaked



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Bill Cipher Being Bill Cipher, Billdip stuff, I hate tags, M/M, Oneshot, Religious Humor, This may be part of a larger story
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 04:08:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,429
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10506048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllDressedUpAndNaked/pseuds/AllDressedUpAndNaked
Summary: It's dessert night at Bill's place.  Bill just can't help himself when he goes to pay for his stuff.Just a silly one-shot with Bill mercilessly giving a grocery store cashier a hard time.  Dipper is not actually in this, but is obviously the "boyfriend" here.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is just something I wrote quickly for a longer story I'm trying to write called Parameters of Love. Not sure if it will make it into the story, but I thought I'd share it for what it is...just some tasteless humor. Enjoy!

Acronyms and Sunday Hymns

 

Bill waltzed through the automatic doors of the Wall-to-Wall Mart Superstore like he owned the place, snatching up a hand basket without even breaking his stride. _Heh, to hell in a hand basket…I've always wondered who came up with that expression,_ he thought as he pictured himself squeezed into one that would have to be much larger, carried by a devil-like creature as he journeyed to the region of eternal damnation.

Already knowing exactly what he wanted to get, he made his way to the dairy case and picked out a large canister of whipped cream, then found the aisle that held ice cream toppings.  A couple of items later, he was off to the HABA aisles (that’s store security lingo for the Health and Beauty Area because, heck, security personnel need to save their breath, and who doesn’t like a catchy acronym?).  He quickly located the sign hanging above the aisle that read ‘feminine hygiene’ and turned to promenade down it.   _Never understood why they put the stuff I’m after in the feminine products area, I mean, guys need this, too_ ... he complained to himself as he casually strolled past the shelves stocked full of tampons, maxi pads, and other products he would never care about.   _...maybe even more so than girls,_ he finished his thought.

When he got to the end of the aisle, the items he was after came into view.  They took up only a small amount of real estate on the shelves, but there was still plenty of selection to choose from.  Several products caught his eye, but since he already knew what he was after, he paid no mind to the ingenious marketing ploys of the stuff he didn’t need, and snatched up what he came here for with a mischievous grin on his face.

Satisfied with what he collected, he made his way to the cash registers, spying an open lane and an employee standing there, apparently humming to himself.  The cashier was probably in his mid-thirties, Bill guessed, and was clean-cut and stood more erect than most employees with such a job usually would, (case in point: the teenaged cashier the next register over that was slouching lazily over his task).  He was also dressed a bit more formal than this type of job demanded.  Given the time, about twelve thirty in the afternoon, and the fact that today was Sunday, Bill concluded he most likely just came from church for his day job.  

Bill smiled casually as he walked up to the cashier, who greeted him with a friendly smile and a pre-recorded, “How are you, today?”, that he must have already said a dozen times since starting his shift, given how flat it came out.

“Oh, I am feeling just flamboyantly exuberant today, Dennis!” Bill answered as he began to empty his basket of its contents.  He loved that employees wore nametags so that he could make his conversations with them more...personal.

The cashier furrowed his brows at what he thought to be a redundant answer by the customer.   _I’ll have to Google those two words later,_ he thought to himself as the exact definitions eluded him at the moment, but he was highly suspicious that they meant the same thing, and using one as an adjective adverb for the other was surprisingly grating to him.  He filed away that thought and resumed the tune he was humming.  

Bill recognized it instantly.  Most people would have.   _Church hymn... Amazing Grace.  So I’m probably right about the job after church thing.  Well, since I’m goin’ to hell anyways, might as well have a little fun, right?_ he mused to himself.

He decided to name each item out loud as he presented them, one at a time, slowly, as if he were introducing old friends to his new one.  Holding the basket low enough so as to be just out of the cashier’s line of sight, he began.

“So we’ve got compressed whipped cream in a can… rainbow colored sprinkles- those were requested by his sister,” he stated nonchalantly, as if the cashier would know who he was talking about, “maraschino cherries…  Ooo!  Can’t forget the chocolate sauce!”  He gave Dennis a friendly wink as he set the jar next to the other items.  

Everything that Bill had pulled out so far would have indicated to any normal person that he was making ice cream sundaes later, or an activity very close to that.

Trying to keep with friendly conversation, Dennis spoke again before Bill could bring out his other items.  “So, dessert at your house later?  Looks like you’re going to have a delicious treat.”  At least his words were delivered more...three dimensionally this time.

Bill grew an inhumanly large grin on his face at that declaration. _Oh, he made this TOO easy...Here we go!_

“Oh, you got that right, Dennis!” the teen declared with electrifying vigor, causing the cashier to slightly flinch at the louder than necessary retort.  To his relief, Bill was clearly done with that level of volume, however, relief quickly faded into uneasiness as he found himself face to face with the blonde teenager who had leaned over the register, clearly invading his space to get as close as possible, as if wanting to tell him a secret.  “But I’m so sorry, this is a _private_ affair of the utmost intimate nature, and I’m afraid my boyfriend would be quite jealous if I invited you to join us,”  he whisper-stated, mock disappointment expertly laced in his words.

The cashier was taken aback momentarily, but proceeded to scan the items and bag them, trying not to think too much about his customer’s subtly suggestive statement, not to mention the blatant disregard for personal space.  Bill quickly retreated from leaning over the register and continued his introduction of the items.

“Next, we have strawberry scented massage oil… a handy-dandy fingertip ‘personal massager’ (yes, he actually made air quotes), you know, for those tight areas.  Oh!  It’s textured- for giving added pleasure!” he read excitedly from the box, “I’ll bet it does!… One bottle of some kind of personal lubrication that apparently warms up on contact, that should be nice… And finally, one box of what this company claims to be the ‘most second-skin like condom available’, one dozen count and extra large sized!”

When Bill got done with his vivid descriptions, he smiled devilishly at the cashier who merely stood there, unblinking.  He couldn’t have looked more scandalized if he had walked in on his own parents...doing things.

Bill lifted an eyebrow at the temporarily impaired man and lowered his tone a bit.  “It’s too much, isn’t it.  I over did it.  You know what, put this box aside, I don’t need it.  Not like I can get ‘im pregnant!” he shamelessly teased.  “Besides, we’re both virgins, so no likelihood of catching any STDs either!  Yeah, I don’t need those, you can put ‘em back,” he said casually, as if they were having the most ordinary conversation ever.

Poor appalled Dennis, who was now flushed in the face and having a hard time swallowing his own saliva, hurried to put the box of condoms aside and finish ringing up this order.

“That’ll be forty-nine dollars and sixteen cents, please,” the cashier managed to croak through his chalky throat.

“Whoa! That’s steep for a dessert night at my house!  Hope Pine Tree appreciates all this!” the blonde exclaimed.  He opened his wallet and pulled out a fifty dollar bill.  Seeing as the cashier was too distraught to reach for the money, Bill just dropped it in front of him.  “Well, it’s been real, Dennis...See ya ‘round!” he exclaimed artificially.   He scooped up his bags and began to hum the cashier’s tune as he left Dennis and register #3 behind.  Suddenly, he remembered something and turned around, still moving so he was now carefully walking backwards.   “Oh, and keep the change!” he offered and winked as he unceremoniously turned back to face the exit.

Bill strolled out of the store, just as confidently as he entered it...as if he owned the place.  Too bad he missed out on seeing the expression on Dennis’ flustered face when he remembered that one of the items the horrendously inappropriate teen bought was requested by his boyfriend’s _sister_ , and how he had to excuse himself from his next customer due to the overwhelming need to throw up.  Not to mention he now felt like he needed to go straight back to church...ASAP.


End file.
